


yours, just as it was

by soyicedcoffee



Category: Shades of Magic - V. E. Schwab
Genre: Light Dom/sub, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2020-03-01 04:01:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18792574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soyicedcoffee/pseuds/soyicedcoffee
Summary: "So you confess it then?  That you are mine."Rhy and Alucard find a little bit more time.





	yours, just as it was

**Author's Note:**

> soooo i just finished a gathering of shadows and first of all fuck me up this is the greatest series. ADDITIONALLY i could not leave the first scene with rhy and alucard alone so i decided to elaborate on it a bit. the italic text at the beginning is taken straight from the book by way of introduction (page 307-308 of A Gathering of Shadows). not sure if such a long excerpt straight from the book is the done thing, but i loved how the author wrote it, and had no inclination to change it, and it seemed abrupt to leave it out.
> 
> keep in mind i have not finished this series, so if you're reading this and thinking i'm omitting something very important about their relationship i most certainly am. the only context i have is what's given in the second book.
> 
> title from hozier’s as it was

_“You are far too familiar with your prince,” he warned._

_“So you confess it then?” His lips brushed against Rhy’s throat. “That you are mine.”_

_He bit the lobe of Rhy’s ear, and the prince gasped, back arching. Alucard always did know what to say—what to do—to tilt the world beneath his feet._

_Rhy turned to say something, but Alucard’s mouth was already there on his. Hands tangled in hair, clutched at coats. They were a collision, spurred by the force of three years apart._

_“You missed me,” said Alucard. It was not a question, but there_ was _a confession in it, because everything about Alucard—the tension in his back, the way his hips pressed into Rhy’s, the race of his heart and the tremor of his voice—said that the missing had been mutual._

_“I’m a prince,” said Rhy, striving for composure. “I know how to keep myself entertained.”_

_The sapphire glinted in Alucard’s brow. “_ I _can be quite entertaining.” He was already leaning in as he spoke, and Rhy found himself closing the distance, but at the last moment Alucard tangled his fingers in Rhy’s hair and pulled his head back, exposing the prince’s throat. He pressed his lips to the slope before Rhy’s jaw._

_Rhy clenched his teeth, fighting back a groan, but his stillness must have betrayed him; he felt Alucard smile against his skin. The man’s fingers drifted to his tunic, deftly unbuttoning his collar so his kisses could continue downward, but Rhy felt him hesitate at the sight of the scar over his heart. “Someone has wounded you,” he whispered into Rhy’s collarbone. “Shall I make it better?”_

_Rhy pulled Alucard’s face back to his, desperate to draw his attention from the mark, and the questions it might bring. He bit Alucard’s lip, and delighted in the small victory of the gasp it earned him._ Alucard pulled Rhy’s tunic over his head, tousling his hair and knocking his circlet lopsided. His face lit up with delighted mirth, before he carefully reached up, plucking the crown off Rhy’s head and placing it carefully on the low table by the balcony doors.

“Quite presumptuous of you,” Rhy murmured against Alucard’s mouth, pushing his coat off his shoulders so it pooled on the ground in a heavy pile of fine blues and silvers, “to take the crown off your prince’s head.”

“Well, it must be a relief for you to know I’d sooner drown myself in the Isle than take up your position,” he replied. “And besides, you make a lovelier prince than I. And you’ll make a far more respectable king.”

Rhy blushed despite himself at the compliment, unable to summon his usual confidence. He tried to ignore the voice in his head that said Alucard, with his inclination towards magic, would make a far worthier king than he ever could.

He leaned in again, capturing Alucard’s mouth with his. One of Alucard’s hands circled on Rhy’s ribcage, warm, broad strokes of his palm making Rhy shiver, while the other rested on Rhy’s throat. He applied no pressure, but the gesture went straight to Rhy’s groin, and he couldn’t suppress a moan.

“You have a lovely neck, you know?” Alucard said, leaning down and pressing kisses to the column of his throat, punctuated with small bites. Not hard enough to bruise, Rhy hoped.

“And you know you don’t have to flatter me to get me into bed,” he groaned as Alucard began to suck a hickey into his shoulder, where his shirt would just barely cover it up for the ball.

“Oh, I’m well aware.”

Rhy scoffed with mock offence, but gladly followed as Alucard began walking backwards, leading them toward Rhy’s bed, shucking off his shirt in the process.

They ended up pressed together, chest to belt, Alucard against the plush headboard of Rhy’s grand bed, Rhy straddling him. Rhy could feel Alucard’s heart beating fast and hard against his ribcage, the rapid rise and fall of his chest. Rhy allowed himself a moment of smugness, although it was tempered by the feeling of his own heart beating wildly.

“Rhy…” Alucard said quietly, running a hand over the soft muscles of Rhy’s stomach.

Rhy bit back a groan as Alucard’s hands drifted to his belt, “You really shouldn’t call me that, you know.” He tried to summon some genuine anger, but any feelings beyond desire were being blotted out by the heat of Alucard beneath him, their proximity leaving him feverish and fuzzy around the edges.

Alucard smirked, not unkindly. “What would you have me call you, then?” His hands were making slow, slow work of Rhy’s belt, lingering on the buttons of his trousers, “Your royal highness, perhaps? Would that suit you better?”

Rhy’s lips downturned instinctively at the title, and Alucard huffed out a laugh. He took Rhy’s left hand in his right, bringing it to his mouth, “You know what I think, my prince?” Alucard placed a gentle kiss to Rhy’s knuckle, lips grazing the rings that decorated each of his fingers. Intended as a show of respect or a mockery of it, Rhy couldn’t tell. Knowing Alucard, he suspected the latter, but the tenderness of the gesture left him breathless all the same.

“I think I can call you whatever I please. And,” Alucard kissed him again, this time lingering on the thin gold band decorating Rhy’s thumb, and then traveled to his wrist, his assortment of gold bracelets, pressing the cool metal to Rhy’s heated skin, “And, I think you’ll like it. Am I wrong?”

Rhy’s breath caught in his chest, and just as he leaned down to close the space between them, Alucard pulled him in, their lips meeting in a searing kiss. Alucard took control effortlessly despite Rhy’s vantage point above him, and the part of Rhy that was used to being in charge bristled. He couldn’t deny how incredible it felt though, especially with Alucard’s left hand – _the one currently not occupied with gently stroking Rhy’s knuckles –_ tangled in his hair, tugging none too gently at his scalp.

It suddenly struck Rhy that though he could have almost anyone in the kingdom—and he _had—_ they all felt like poor substitutes for this. He wondered if Alucard felt the same, if his conquests of the last three years held a candle to _this._  A deep, desperate part of him hoped not, but the larger part reprimanded him not to hope. _It hasn’t gotten you anything before, except for a broken heart._

Their kissing varied, one moment frenzied, all teeth and tongue, the next soft and restrained, lips barely brushing. They finally broke for air, their chests heaving in tandem, but they barely pulled apart, noses and cheeks brushing as they breathed. The intimacy of the moment made Rhy’s heart clench in his chest. _If, by some blessing, Kell hasn’t felt any of this, he certainly felt_ that _._

All Rhy felt was a barely perceptible _whoosh_ of air, and suddenly he was on his back, looking up at Alucard. _Magic or strength?_ Rhy wondered, knowing it could reasonably be either – three years on a pirate ship was bound to develop the muscles, he figured. In fact, as Rhy examined the man above him it was clear that they had. Despite his scrawny physique, his arms and chest were indeed more defined, banded with tense muscle. Hard where Rhy, while relatively fit, was still hanging on to some of the softness of youth.

In one fell movement, Alucard removed Rhy’s trousers and sat back on his haunches, just _staring_ at Rhy, naked but for the gold jewelry gracing his neck, wrists, fingers, glowing in the low light of his chambers. His cock was hard and leaking against his stomach, but he didn’t move to touch himself. He let Alucard look at him – he didn’t mind being on display.

Alucard drew in a sharp breath, “ _Sanct,_ Rhy. I forgot how beautiful you are.” His voice was quiet, reverent, and it made Rhy shiver to his core. Alucard finally leaned back in, mouthing across Rhy’s throat, chest, shoulders, holding himself up above Rhy with little effort. His clothed crotch brushed Rhy’s bare cock, and he whined, too far gone to bite it back or feel truly embarrassed.

“Perhaps I can scrounge up a royal portrait for you, to take next time you leave,” Rhy breathed, trying valiantly to banish any melancholy from his voice, but the look that flashed across Alucard’s face told him he was unsuccessful. It was a look of sadness, regret even, and Rhy supposed he could take that as a victory, even as it made his throat constrict.

“Is the royal artist available right now?” Alucard teased, “Because this is the image I’d want, Rhy. You on your back for me like this.” Alucard finally reached between them and palmed at Rhy’s cock against his stomach. Rhy let out a moan, hooking his foot so it dug into Alucard’s back, grasping for purchase to thrust up against the pressure.

“Or down on your knees, looking up at me,” he smirked, “I’d gladly hang that in my cabin.”

“You’d so debase your future king?”

“Only because I know how he’d relish it,” Alucard leaned down, bringing their mouths together. Alucard’s hand stroked him properly now, and Rhy could hear himself moaning consistently.

“You’re as noisy as I remember,” Alucard whispered against Rhy’s mouth, hand slowing. “What will your guards think?”

“They’ve heard worse,” Rhy bit out, and Alucard’s expression darkened perceptibly. His hand stilled entirely, and his mouth moved down, below Rhy’s jaw. Where Rhy expected a kiss, or a light nip, he got a hard, bruising bite. He cried out, partially from the sudden pain, partially from the sharp pleasure of it.

“Can’t have anyone forgetting to whom you belong,” Alucard said hoarsely, thumbing the wound blooming at the side of Rhy’s throat. The possessiveness of the words and gesture made his cock twitch, and Rhy almost came right then, with Alucard’s hand completely still against him.

Alucard’s hand sped up then, the pressure consistent and intense, and Rhy saw sparks building behind his eyelids, bursts of light with every stroke.

“Rhy, tell me,” Alucard growled, lips brushing against Rhy’s ear. “Tell me who you belong to.”

“You,” Rhy gasped. “I’m yours, all yours, Alucard, I’m-“

Alucard’s teeth closed on Rhy’s earlobe again, and Rhy finally tumbled over the edge, his name on his lips, and-

The bells rang out.

The Banner Night.

He was late. They were late. Very late.


End file.
